I suppose in my first official post, I should provide a little bit about myself and how I ended up living life on the range.
I grew up in the city – Houston, TX – to be exact. I’ll be honest, I was never a huge fan of Houston, but once I moved away, I began to appreciate it more. And now I constantly find myself defending it. It really is more than humidity, traffic, and mosquitoes. I joke that sometimes when I tell people I’m from Houston around here, they look at me like I’m from New York City. And while I still feel it’s completely different, I guess in some ways, Houston is the New York City of the South.
I suppose you could say I always had a soft spot for cowboys. Maybe it was the seemingly gentlemanly respect, the chivalry, or the old-fashioned ways. The way they take their hat off when they meet a lady or at church or the table. Or the yes and no ma’ams. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was an outdoorsy girl growing up in the city. And well, cowboys have always been the heroes after all. {I should clarify that I mean true cowboys. There’s plenty of imposters these days..}
My Daddy has always been my hero. He’s a man’s man to a T. I started hunting with my Dad when I was two, killed my first hog at four, and shot my first deer at six. I guess you could say it was in my blood. I loved early mornings watching nature wake-up, and following in my Dad’s footsteps. I cherished that time I got to spend with him growing up. My father is passionate about the outdoors and that passion quickly passed to me. In high school, I missed most football games so that I could go hunting. I don’t suppose I was your average “city-girl.” I was often the only girl at deer camp. Something I laugh about now. Who knew my time in deer camp would prepare me for my future life as a ranch wife. The Lord uses everything!
My momma is my other hero, and I have her to thank for exposing me to the finer things in life. I wasn’t a total tomboy and still loved dolls and dance class and getting dressed up. I was still very much a girly-girl. I remember one Christmas, I got a Kitchen-Aid mixer and a 30-06 custom rifle. I was thrilled with both.
I say all of this to set the stage. You see, I never, NEVER, thought of myself as a city girl. I was way more country than any of my friends – by far. And they would tell you the same thing.
I grew up hunting but never ranching. In fact, I wasn’t even one of those little girls that loved horses. A Jack Russel got me bucked off a horse around the age of four. They of course made me get back on, but the memory stuck and I wasn’t overly fond of horses. While I rode off and on, it wasn’t until college that I wanted to start riding again. And it wasn’t until I left for college, that my parents purchased some property and cows. I had zero experience as a cowgirl, yet ranching was always a lifestyle I admired from the distance. Maybe yet another reason cowboys intrigued me.
I ended up attending college at TCU, in the heart of Cowtown itself. I’ll never forget my freshman year, when a group of ranch management students opened the door for me into what was called the Student Union Center back then. I swooned. Maybe chivalry wasn’t dead.
However, it wouldn’t be for nearly a decade later until I’d meet my cowboy husband. Living in Fort Worth, I became more exposed to the ranching community and had several friends who had gone through the ranch management program. I occasionally went to some of the events. Somehow our paths never crossed while my husband was in the program, but one night we both happened to be at an annual event.
I should rewind to nearly 8 months prior. After purchasing cattle, my parents had joined the TSCRA. The Cattle Raisers Convention was in Fort Worth this particular year and I decided to attend with them. Little did I know, that I had caught the eye of my cowboy husband. He noticed me and a mutual friend offered to introduce him…but he opted to wait for a different time to make a better impression. We never met.
When our paths crossed months later at the event, I wasn’t looking to meet anyone – much less a cowboy.
I was talking with a group of friends, when I heard someone ask if he could dance with me. (The gentlemanly cowboy thing…) As he made his way through the circle and back to me, he asked me to dance. Flattered but still unsure of who this guy was, I followed him to the dance floor. We talked as best we could with the noisy band. He told me where he was from and grinned when I said I knew where that was. The truth was I didn’t really, I had just heard of the town before. We danced a few more times throughout the night and parted ways.
The next day he told me he’d like to call on me. Ok, I kind of swooned. I had never had anyone ask to call on me. After several attempts to get together, his persistence paid off, and I agreed to dinner. My life has never been the same since.
Ours was a whirlwind romance. We were engaged within five month and married five months after that. I guess it’s like they say, when you know you know.
I should mention that on one of our first few dates, he called me a city-girl. I was highly offended. Primarily for all the reasons I listed above. I most certainly was not a city girl. He gave me his cute grin and laughed. I’ve since then been referred to as a town girl, and I’m ok with that. After several years of life in the country, I’ve admitted that maybe, just maybe, there is a little town (eh, city) girl in me after all. Who says you can’t be both? Momma raised me to be both, and I’m grateful for that.
So that’s how this town girl turned somewhat cowgirl and ended up nearly 500 miles from home. When I say I’m from Houston, people look at me and ask how in the world I ended up here? I’ve found God writes the best love stories.